


Permanent Inconsistency

by Xenovia



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate universe theory is here but its vague, black and white, one day I'll write something that actually has a plot, set post MIA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenovia/pseuds/Xenovia
Summary: John wanders the Black and White, alone in the nothingness.At least the Apotheosis had the decency to kill him off quickly.
Kudos: 9





	Permanent Inconsistency

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you gotta get existential and literally just ramble about every Black and White headcanon you like

He remembers the last time. 

Not fully, not all of it, but he remembers. It didn’t come back to him until he entered that place, but now it’s hard to forget. 

He walks through the darkness, his body half functioning. He exhales with no breath, blinking merely out of habit. He’s unsure of how much time has actually passed since Wilbur abandoned him in the nothingness. His watch proves no help, seemingly unmoving as he looks at it. He sees two lights in the far distance, and begins to approach them on the pure fact that they’re the only thing to focus on. 

He thinks to help the time pass as he goes, though the thoughts are none too comforting.   
  
He knew his life well. Where he grew up, his family, the early days of PEIP. He could recount it all from memory clear as day. There was never any doubt in his mind that this was the life he’d lived. 

But it happened suddenly, slowly. Ever since he’d begun work on the portal they’d begin to seep into his thoughts. Moments from somewhere else, anecdotes with too much detail. He knew they were his own memories, but he couldn’t place them. They didn’t fit what he knew but they were too specific to be false. 

He’d brush them off, assume they were subconscious ramblings. Therapy had helped for a while, but it became clear that they were very real, pulled from somewhere in his memory.   
  
As soon as he entered the Black and White they were dragged to the front of his mind. 

The Meteor, the eerie songs in the distance as they arrived, the blue and red blood staining the streets. He could’ve survived, but he wanted to believe his team was still there. He could remember staring, looking into smiling copies of the people he knew as his friends. 

He could’ve survived, but when Xander started singing he tried to ignore it. _He could still save him, he wasn’t gone yet._

He’d trusted them too much, gotten too close. The gunshot had only hit his palm but it was enough, enough to give them an opportunity. He can almost feel the notes crawling up his throat as he reminisces. 

But that was it. He died, and it was over.   
  
And he’d done it again. Rushed in after Goodman because he thought he could save him, thought he could be the hero again. They’d always said he had that problem. 

But this time is different. He’s stuck, static. Technically dead but with no way to move on. He doesn’t know what’s going on with their plan, or how he can help them. So he remains, and he waits.   
  
He isn’t alone here, which is a surprise. People wander, not fully there. A teenage boy, a woman in a cape. They cross his path occasionally, but they don’t stick around long. They aren’t meant to be there any longer than they need to, John wishes he could believe the same for himself. 

_He was sure by now they’d have sent in the nuke, but there’s no sign of it._

_He hoped it would hit soon._   
  
He counts in his mind to keep himself grounded, he remembers words of encouragement from his team, he pushes the memory of singing that first melody out of his brain. He can see lights in the distance still, but he doesn’t seem to have gotten any closer to them despite how far it feels he’s walked. 

At this point he almost wishes that thing would show up again, just to give him something to fight for. He laughs, but there’s no emotion to it. 

_His sanity wouldn’t last here._

From what he can tell, there are two outcomes. 

He can wait, stubborn and unrelenting. A prisoner in the Black and White until his mind simply can’t hold together any longer. He’d try his best but the place would get to him eventually. There was no time, no change. Nothing to focus on. Every moment there he was a step closer to losing his grip.   
  
But on the other hand, he can always follow in his mentor’s footsteps. Wilbur was unconfined, free to move as he pleased. John doesn’t know what deal he’d made, but he was promised something. He wonders what that creature would offer him. Would leaving be enough to sway loyalties?   
  
John shakes his head and continues walking. At this point he’s afraid to acknowledge that the answer might not be no. 


End file.
